


Meant to Have Us

by Lucyemers



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Depression, Post-Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyemers/pseuds/Lucyemers
Summary: James has some low moments. Robbie and Laura make sure he doesn't face them alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lydia_E_Nheers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_E_Nheers/gifts).



> For a prompt on Tumblr, "Maybe I wasn’t meant to have friends…maybe I’m supposed to be alone??"

Robbie had always been used to handling James as...a bit more than a coworker....much to Innocent’s exasperation when he would stop by her office following particularly harrowing cases that he knew would eat at James. James was no longer his sergeant, and she was no longer his boss, but he would stop by none the less and try to get a read on his emotional state. She would cock an eyebrow and be halfway through one of those almost operatic eye rolls that he would never quite see the end of (literally or figuratively) as he hurried out the door and, more often than not, to the pub, to check on the depths of brooding that his former sergeant and current friend was drinking himself into. 

Brooding was a somewhat too romantic term for it really, Robbie thought. And that day in particular there had been nothing romantic about it. He’d met James at the pub and found him quiet. On bad days like these he typically was. After two beer's worth of small talk he’d walked James to his flat and taken him at his word that he was, “Fine, Robbie”, he could almost hear the unsaid, “Sir” that he’s only just gotten accustomed to dropping. “Go and see Laura. Give her my love.” 

But he had worried (of course he had) all through dinner until Laura’s annoyance that he seemed a world away melted into worry of her own, and when he had gotten a text from James that deeply troubled them both just as they were halfheartedly pondering dessert , she had not only been understanding but insistent that he pop by to check on him, “Bring him home, Robbie, if you need to. To my house. You don’t have nearly enough room and the spare bedroom’s all made up." 

They were up until all hours. Long after Laura, who had work in the morning, had gone off to bed he’d stayed up to hear out all of James’s painstaking “could haves” and “should haves” and “what ifs”, and told him all of the things he’d told himself over the years whenever similar thoughts had plagued him about a case. Sometimes they had helped him. He hoped they would help James too. Lately they had had much fewer of these late night sessions. But then James’s father had passed. There had been all the stress of a funeral and forced interaction with Nell and her husband with whom James did not get on. And all of this surrounding some of the worst cases he had ever worked on without Robbie to help and while he was still trying to prove himself. Robbie had been indulgent at first, poured him another drink even though he was already pretty far gone. Experience should have told him this was a bad idea. Experience with Morse, experience with himself. It was like the old proverb: you feed a cold and starve a fever. You pour a drink for laughter, you make coffee for tears. How quickly he’d forgotten. Fortunately he’d eventually managed to sober James up enough that he’d been able to make the walk down the hall to the spare bedroom. 

And so he stood bleary eyed at eight a.m. hovering outside the door because he’d heard James stirring. He knocked tentatively and heard a groan. Laura came down the hall dressed for work, holding his mobile. “What?”, he murmured sleepily at her. She took the glass of water he was holding and gave him a quick kiss. “You look done in. You can go back to bed if you like.” Too exhausted to question her, he watched as she pushed through the doorway and perched on the side of the bed. She put a gentle hand to the shoulder of the groaning and slightly embarrassed looking lump under the covers. “Laura?” He pressed his head into the heels of his hands as he sat up. “Thanks for letting me stay.” Robbie hovered in the door frame as she responded only by pushing the glass into his hand, “Drink it. Slowly.” She checked her watch as he did so saying, “Stay as long as you need. I’ve got to run but we are going to talk for a moment first...” She handed him Robbie’s phone saying, “About this? Remember?” James took the phone and glanced at it. “Shit.” “No,” she said calmly, firmly, “No, we’re going to talk about it.” “No...it’s”, he sighed, ran a weary hand over his face, “I didn’t think I’d actually sent it.”

Robbie had been surprised too. The text had been out of character for James, even as in his cups as he’d been last night: _“I’m sorry. Come over for a drink? Sorry, I know you’ve both already got plans. I’m not the best company right now. Maybe I shouldn’t have friends….maybe I’m supposed to be alone??”_

“James.” She took his hand. “I won’t accept it”, she said quietly, firmly, lovingly, all at once. “We are here." He didn't respond and she continued. "We are always here. You have Robbie. You have me. You have my spare bedroom and my referral if you she should ever need to talk to someone professional about--” “I don’t”--he tried but she wouldn’t let him finish. “Though I know you won’t take it, stubborn git.” She rolled her eyes but smiled, meeting his eyes, “You can’t say those things to me, Inspector Hathaway.” Robbie loved her for her little cheekiness when she said that last bit, how she squeezed James's hand as she said it, how the teasing smile that passed her face made one almost cross his face at the same time, almost cracked that mask of sorrow. “Because we are here”, she continued, her face returning to all its earnestness, "we love you. You are meant to have us.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a huge fan of how the show treats mental health medication/treatment in general. So I had to make sure Laura made the "seek professional help" suggestion because I think she would. And because she speaks on my behalf to anyone feeling that low.
> 
> Also I stand by "pour a drink for laughter, make coffee for tears". I've seen close friends through some trauma. Things can go south real quick past a certain number of drinks, especially if someone's already hurting.


End file.
